When I was five years old, my father was tortured, branded with the letter “Z,” then left for dead. The grueling punishment for his crime was a reminder to all others who dared threaten the Russian’s reign.

I was the young girl left behind. A living piece of the traitorous puzzle the Russian leader tried so diligently to ignore.

Until I grew up. No longer could he deny how much my existence had always been intertwined with his. And in order to survive the life I was thrown into, I was forced to learn my place inside of it.

Vlad Zalesky was a tyrant to the lost.

I hated him.

He was a terror of mass destruction.

I was afraid of him.

He was a tormentor of the weak.

But not far beneath the venomous man’s outward indifference was something else.

Vlad Zalesky carried secrets of unrestrained burden. He carried them like cruel blades. I wanted to know those secrets.

“A.C. Bextor has took this story to the darkest places imaginable and left me wanting more. Every single tear, every drop of blood shed, every embrace, every moment, I loved it.” ~5 Star Goodreads Review by Julie

She said my name. She said it as a woman, not a child. No longer am I the monster Vee I once was, but a man she came here to find.

If Klara were to attempt an escape, I wouldn’t let her. I couldn’t. A woman as beautiful as she is, as smart and perceptive, must have already come to this foregone conclusion.

The moment she willingly stepped foot inside this cabin, Klara became the helpless prey to my animalistic desire.

The startled lamb caught in the ravenous lion’s den.

The heuristic angel imprisoned within the arms of the demoralizing devil.

She’ll no longer be a young woman, lost amidst a carnal world of men who look at her as they do, want her as they desire. No one will ever touch her as long as she’s in my bed. For as long as this is to last, she’ll only ever submit to me. The power in this knowledge is my undoing.

“Vlad,” she whispers again, her voice tense and shaky.

Ignoring what could be her second thoughts, my hand trails down her thigh. With the hem of her dress within my reach, I pull it up and slide my fingers beneath it. She gasps, her eyes widening in surprise as I push the material aside, aiming for the soft flesh.

“You do this to me,” I seethe, thrusting myself against her and closing my eyes to maintain control.

Prying apart her thighs, I fist the scrap of material between them and viciously yank it from her body. Klara cries out, her neck arching, and her eyes slamming shut.

“This is what you came here for,” I taunt, roughly covering her sex before thrusting a single finger inside. Her body pulsates upon invasion and this time she doesn’t gasp—she sighs.

“Vlad,” she whispers.

Reaching through the tight space between us, Klara slides her hands down my stomach until finding purchase on my aching cock, her caress so light I jolt in place.

The feel of her touch is nearly painful

The faint mist of her breath on my lips begs for me to taste her.

The familiar scent of lilacs once again ruins all my resolve.

Covering her mouth with my own, I swallow her sharp moan and thrust myself farther into her small hand, forcing her to touch all of me.

“Spread your legs,” I instruct, reveling in the inexperience of her play.

Once again my name crosses her lips. This time she says it as she never has before—with the passion of a woman thirsting for gratification.

“Offer yourself to me, Klara.”

Klara does as I’ve asked. Without hesitating, she positions me at her entrance. In one long and furious drive, I push forward, finding purchase inside her warm, tight, wet center.

Biting down, she clenches her teeth and gasps for air. Her neck arches, unintentionally ripping her mouth from mine.

“Look at me,” I clip, pulling out of her only to slide back in with more force than before.

When she doesn’t do as I’ve told her, I reach up to gather a handful of hair. Before unintentionally causing her pain, I stop and take in a needed breath.

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